LITTLE ANYA PART ONE
by EJM513
Summary: The story of Russia is one of beauty, blood and lost. The tale of the Romanovs is just that, beauty, blood and. Enter into a secret past that has only been recently revealed, a majestic, haunting and fairy tale like past. You are about to witness the fall of Russia's Royal Family-the Romanovs. Part one in a three part series. Rated T for historical content and brief language.


**AN: WELCOME TO MY FIRST ATEMPT AT A FAIRY-TAIL LIKE STORY. THIS WILL FEATURE MY HEAD CANNON FEM RUSSIA-SMALL, DARK HAIR BUT SAME PRUPLE EYES AND PERSONALITY. OKAY I KNOW AN ENTIRE STORY BAISCALLY ABOUT A OC-ISH CHARACTER BUT I THINK YOU LIKE HER. ALSO FEM ENGLANG WILL BE THERE ALSO, AND NO CHANGES ASIDE OF MAKING HER A GIRL-YAY FOR MORE GIRLS! **

**THIS STORY WILL BE BROKEN UP INTO THREE PARTS-THIS FIRST PART IS FROM THE LATE 1800's TO 1905.**

**I'D LIKE TO DEDICATE THIS STORY TO THE ROMANOVS-ESPEICALLY THE CHILDREN AND THE VICTIMS OF THE NEW TOWN MASSACER SIX MONTHS AGO. THEY HAVE ONE HORRIBLE COMMON FACTOR; ALL OF THEM DIED TRAGIC AND UNNECESSARY DEATHES. MAY THEY ALL REST IN PEACE**

**AS ALWYS PLEASE ENJOY AND PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW *INSERT PUPPY DOG FACE***

**DISCLAIMER: UGH PEOPLE COME ON! I DON'T OWN HETALIA OR THE **

**CHARACTERS IN IT-THAT INCLUDES MY HEAD CANNON FEM OTHERS ARE HISTORICAL FIGURES.**

**LITTLE ANYA: **

**THE BEGINNINGS OF A DISASTER**

INTRODUCTION:

Close your eyes and imagine a world where countries are not only a mass of land bound to the Earth but a living, breathing human being. How would they react to events both good and bad that occurred to the world and them? This is the topic of our fairytale. It is no ordinary children's bed time story. Oh no, this is not a tale for the faint of heart and the weak of mind. This fairytale knows no magic, nor a happily ever after, yet it is still a fairytale none the less.

You have been warned.

CHAPTER ONE: THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL

Once upon a time, not so long there was a land, a land of permanent blood and snow. It stretched one sixth of the world's surface, held the third largest population within its massive borders. It was one of Europe's greatest powers, behind a tiny Island and a military marvel. It was also a two faced land, for while most froze and toiled away a select few hardly lifted a finger. Those selected few lived in the land's glittering capital, St. Petersburg.

Oh how the world envied that city, with its frozen canals, its violent transformation from a swamp to a world fit for a king. It held many large, gleaming castles in and around the icy wonderland. The grandest of all was the spectacle that was the Winter Palace. It seemed to stretch for miles on end, rising three floors into the sky. Within its walls were endless rooms full of the finest furniture and trappings the common man could only dream of. It was there that the beginnings of a pure disaster was brewing.

Inside a lavish, wonderful wedding reception was in full swing. The lovely bride and groom were the Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, uncle to the Tsaraviche and Princess Elizabeth of Hesse, a German princess. It was early June and the air was warm and inviting, the trees and flowers were in bloom and birds were flying and singing about in the blue sky. Even in the air in the Winter Palace was light, full of a strange warm feeling that seemed cause every man and woman to smile. Well, all except one.

Standing by the beverage table, ever so innocently sipping shots of vodka was a strange young woman. She stood a rather small at 5'2 when not wearing a pair of dreadful heels. Everything about her, from her frame to her tiny hands were delicate and pale like a prima ballerina. Those who gazed upon her were rendered speechless at the sight of the tiny figure in a heavily jeweled Imperial gown. Unlike many of the other female guest, she refused to wear her hair up. Instead she twisted her thick, curled dark brunette hair into an elegant half up half down braided due, exposing her high cheek bones and wide violate eyes. Oh how she hated to have her hair curled, but alas her natural straight hair was not in style. On top of her head stood not a gleaming weighted crown but a small silver tiara, encrusted with brilliant red rubies.

No one knew exactly who she was, only a select few held that privilege. To the upper class people she was some strange girl who had suddenly appeared when Tsar Alexander II came into power and never seemed to age. To the millions of peasants that were the backbone of this particular civilization she was a mystical, holly being that would bring untold good luck if you just saw her. To the Tsar, certain people in government and the Royal family she was Anya Rossyivana Romanov, a grand duchess and the personification of the Holly Russian Empire. Yes, despite the country's vast size the woman who embodied all that Russia was…well was rather small. It certainly helped when it came to blending in among her subjects, or being able to hide in a corner and sip on vodka until she couldn't stand.

As she stood there downing her shoots as gracefully as she could, Anya found herself getting lost in her own history, silently marveling how she reached the point she could attend such a lovely wedding. Ever since Ivan the terrible proclaimed himself Tsar of not just Moscow but all of Russia, she was locked away. At first and for the longest time it was a dark room in the Kremlin with only bared windows to let in air and light. Forced to wear rags, her Tsar purposely locked her up because he believed she was a demon since she never aged. She was constantly wiped, beaten and at one point burnt at the stake. However since she wouldn't die it was back to dungeon after, where she was left to cry and scream in agony until she heeled. It was not until a new and strange Tsar named Peter came along that everything changed. When the young man found her in the Kremlin, he thought her more animal than human. She was bone thin, hair all matted and dressed in rags She could only speak Russian when she spoke at all. What was most disturbing were the scars, scars from whip lashes and scars from being burnt alive.

Most would have ran away with fear at the sight of a famished, terror stricken purple eye girl who only aged slightly in 200 years. Peter didn't. He had been to Western Europe and saw the light, saw creatures like her who were tied to the land and never grew old. So he boldly took her by the hand and brought her to a strange new city he called St. Petersburg. There she was cleaned, fed, dressed like a proper young lady and then promptly locked in yet another room. It was different though, she plenty of windows to see the world through and books that were waiting to be read. A man in came and thought how to read and write in Russian and French. People came and gave her food and when the Emperor had no important guest she was free to wander about the Winter Palace. By the time Peter died she was as he put "almost human".

Then a horrid power struggle took place and she purposely staid in her room. When Peter's daughter Elizabeth took over, Anya wasn't even allowed to leave her room unless she needed the bathroom. The Empress claimed it was for her own good, that she wanted Anya to spend more time studying and learning. It was a nice thought to believe it was true, but for Anya it just meant more time stuck in a room. The poor girl almost physically shuttered when she thought of the torment she was put through in the brief amount of time when Peter the Third was on the throne. He quite literally locked her in her room and hid the key when he spoke German to her and she only stared. Her teachers stopped coming, and only a pathetic amount of food came through a small dog hole three times a day. It wasn't until his wife Catherine seized power to the throne that the key was found that Anya was set free. Catherine, having been a highly intelligent woman with even higher standards fairly quickly deemed fit not only to be involved in the shameless court life but in Political meetings.

All that beauty, all that power was taken away the moment Catherine died and hasn't been returned since. When Alexander II came to the throne, he knew all about Anya's tragic past and being the reformer he was wanted to make a change for the better. So he unlocked her door and she was once again allowed to join in the shameless court life, nothing more nothing less.

Sometimes she couldn't help to wonder how she had yet to drink herself into oblivion.

Suddenly a gentle finger tapped her shoulder, bringing Anya back into the real world. The grand duchess spun around and before stood a handsome young man. In the year 1884 when our story beings he was only 16 years of age, bright face and a wonderful people person. The young man, much like Anya was known for his eyes. However unlike the cold beauty his dazzling blue eyes were always so kind and warm, almost fatherly. Anya's stiff posture relaxed slightly as she fought the urge to smile at the young man who always showered her with affection. She was so grateful for his warmth that she was able to ignore the fact it was he who was making her learn how to speak English (at least she didn't have to read it). That small kind hearted man was to be her next Tsar…much to her horror.

"Bonjour Nicholas Alexandrovich." Anya said, curtsying deeply. Nicholas smiled at the "young" woman and let out a chuckle. "You sadden me Little Anya. I thought we had grown close enough to get rid of the Alexandrovich." Readers should note that from now on the personification of Russia shall be called by her pet name, Little Anya. Nicholas came up with the nickname when he was a young lad of ten, when he met the strange creature for the first time. He was the only one of the children who was not fearful of her, who did not find her purple eyes or the fact that she never aged bazar. Of course the rumor that she carried a faucets pipe around during times of war rather disturbed him, especially when he heard of what she supposedly did to Mr. France during Napoleons invasion. Yet being the person he was, young Nicholas was able to see past the terrifying cold façade. He only saw a poor, lonely soul who was in desperate need of affection. He also saw his Little Anya roll her eyes at the sound of her pet name, which only made him smile.

"Nicholas, must I be reminding you once again that you are not being that much taller than myself." Little Anya whispered, causing Nicholas's friendly smile to fade. Oh how the young man hated the fact he was not a bear of a man like he Papa. He stiffened slightly and claimed in the most polite manner possible, "That may be true, but the fact is I stand at least 5 inches taller than you." With another roll of Little Anya's purple eyes the conversation ended, and the country took yet another shot of vodka. Nicholas shook his head and sighed. "Little Anya you shouldn't drink too much of that. You'll feel like you ran into a wall by tomorrow morning." Russia waved her hand in dismissal and handed the young prince a small glass. At first he just stared at it, his big blue eyes slightly confused. Little Anya sighed and shook her head and picked up yet another one. "Nicholas-really- are you meaning to tell me you have not had any Vodka?" The young lad blushed slightly, a sweet shy smile appearing on his oh so innocent face. "No princess. I haven't."

A small, sickly sweet smile appeared on Little Anya's marble face causing Nicholas's blood to run cold. As much as he cared for his Little Anya sometimes she could be too much even for his patient soul to handle. She handed him the small glass and said in a cat like manner, "Let little Anya teach you how to drink like a real Russian."She proclaimed softly, her icy voice sending chill up the young lad's spine. He immeditly threw his hands up, taking a step back for the tiny glass. "Thank you Little Anya but I think I will pass, for now. Papa will not be too pleased with me if I am not clear headed tomottow." He claimed, causing Russia to smirk and roll her stunning violate eyes. "Please your highness, I am knowing for a fact your father makes you to do nothing. Just take the drink and relax." She said, thrusting the tiny glass into his warm hand. The young heir stared down at the clear liquid, his cornflower blue eyes growing as wide as a full moon. A dejected sigh escaped his lips and his hand gripped the glass tigher. Then in one swift motion he threw the liquid into his month, gaging as the burning liquid slid down his throat. "Good god!" He cried, resiting the urge to spit out the dreaded liquid. Little Anya simple laughed, daintly clapping her hands. "Wonderful Nicky, you have made first step into manhood." She claimed proudly, turning around and grabbing another glass. "Another." She deamanded, practically shoving the glass into his hand. Nicholas, his throat only beginning to stop burning once again put his hands up. "Nyet Little Anya, no more for me." With no other option in sight, Russia simply shrugged and tossed the liquid down her throat with surprising her Tsaraviche she enjoyed the burning sensation of vodka. It stired something instead of her that she could not expalin.

It was almost as the burning sensation of vodka reminded her she was still part human.

A sigh escaped Little Anya's bored lips, her pale features twisiting into a rather bored expressoin. Her large eyes trailed aroaund the ball room, attempting to find anything interesting. For a moment she saw nothing but the same mindless people chattering, drinking and dancing away. Her blood began to boil with resientment at the sight. But then, then her eyes fell upon something she had not been expecting. Standing away from the crowd was a young girl who couldn't be no more than tweleve. She was a pretty child, with long golden red curls that went brilliant with her white dress. Her face was creamy and smooth, covered in little red bloches of embarassment. Her lips were thin, her slim and shar even at that young age. However it was not her beauty that surprised Little Anya. What surprised her was the young girls large, handsome blue eyes were staring directly at Nicholas. Oh how her heart fluttered with amusement, a little girl was falling for the next Tsar of Russia. But then, then as Russia began to stare at her more she realized who the young girl was, and her own eyes grew large.

"What are you staring at?" Nicholas inquired, his voice full of curiosity. Little Anya carefully placed her delicate hands on his shoulders and spun him around, making him face the bashful girl. She had done it now. For the briefest of moments the two looked straight into each others eyes, and Russia could have sworn she heard Nicholas gasp ever so quitely. She watched his famous crown flower blue eyes grown wide with awe, watched his mouth form into the slighest O shape. Her own heart began to beat faster and flutter with joy. Now the Tsar was falling for a little German princess. "Little Anya...who is she?" He questioned breathlessly, and Russia coudln't help but to smile. "She is being the brides younger sister, Alexandra of Hesse. She is grand daughter of Queen Victoria, favorite one I believe." Nicholas's thin lips twisted into an adoring smile as Little Anya induludged his beaming heart. He sighed contently. "She's so beautiful." He mused quitely. "Da..." Russia agreeded with a nodd, only to cross her arms and say "and she is only 12." Nicholas chuckled slightly and turned his head towards his Little Anya, and that sense of amusment she felt quickly disapeared the moment she looked into his eyes. Her violate eyes narrowed slightly, growing extermly serious and firm. "Nicholas listen to me, I am knowing what you're thinking...and she is not good wife for you." The heir's smile turned into a dejected frown, the light quickly disapearing from his lovely eyes. "But Russia..."

The young man might as well have stabbed a knief straight into her heart. His voice was soft, so pitiful and so sad. Little Anya felt her heart contract slightly. She never enjoyed denying him what he wanted. Of corse the process of finding a wife for him was yet another process she was not involved in. Yet like the child he still was, the Tsaraviche would have his dear Little Anya's approvale of the woman who would be his wife. No matter how beautiful Nicholas thought the young Alexandra was, no matter how much he already seemed to fancy her if the day came and he seriouslly wanted to marry the girl Russia simply could'nt give her stamp of approval. There something about that girl, about her offish and antisocial behavior that didn't sit well with Little Anya. Nicholas could certainlly find someone much more sutiable, someone that would not rub her people the wrong way. Did she even need to mention the fact the girl was German? Little Anya placed her hand gently on Nicholas's shoulder, her expression still serious and almost terrifiying. "Nicholas I am telling you, this woman is not for you... is not for Russia. Your parents will never allow it." The lad looked down at his feet, a knowing expression appearing on his youthful face. "I know Little Anya I know, but she's just so..." His voice trailed of, his eyes glancing towards the young girl longingly.

Russia simply turned around and grabbed another shot of vodka. What else could she do? Strange as it seemed to lad had already fallen in love, and when his parents rejected the little German princess he would just have to find another shoulder to cry on. Little Anya brought her fingers to her temple at her thoguhts, knowing very well she could never ignore her Nicky when he was in destress. As her Tsaravche continued to stare longingly at princess Alexandra only one thought ran through Little Anya's head

"_What have I done?_"

**AN-THERE YOU HAVE IT, THE BEGINNING OF WHAT COULD BASICALLY BE CALLED MY LOVE LETTER TO RUSSIA AND THE ROMANOVS. :3**

**NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA DID SEE EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME AT THE WEDING OF SEREGI ROMANOV AND ELIZABETH OF HESSE, THE FEATURE TSARINA OF RUSSIA'S OLDER SISTER. HE WAS 16 SHE WAS 12, AND IT WAS QUITE LITTERALY LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. HOW SWEET :D**


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